All my stories can be found under my name in the
NIFTY Prolific Net Authors section.

jvoyager@hotmail.com

"BMW."

"Yep," I agreed.

"Bavarian Auto
Works."

"Yes," I said, looking up at the
kid.

"Beamer."

"Right again." He was seventeen,
eighteen, maybe, blond, five-ten, and he had what looked like a nice body
under baggy jeans and a loose T-shirt. His complexion was clear, a little
tanned and his eyes were a strange shade of blue, almost aqua, almost green.
He had an amazing smile, halfway between a normal smile and an open-mouthed
grin, as if he were perpetually on the verge of laughter.

"I never saw one
before."

"Really? I'd figure you'd get a
lot of tourists pulling off I-70."

"Not as many as you'd think. Most
of them go north along I-80, through Salt Lake," he said, still walking
around my car, slowly checking it out. "I can wash it for
you."

"It needs it," I smiled. "It's
practically
plastered with bugs."

I'd left San Francisco three days
earlier, stopping to see an old friend at Lake Tahoe. I'd then gone on
east along old US Highway 50, through Carson City and Ely, Nevada. At Delta
the road angles southeast to I-15, then northeast to Scipio and then
southeast
again to Salina, going through miles and miles of desolate but still
amazingly
beautiful territory. I'd often driven fifty miles without seeing another
car. Just on the west edge of Salina, 50 joined I-70 and headed on east
toward Denver.

My plan, though, was to continue
on south to Glen Canyon and Lake Powell, before heading back north to Arches
National Park, and then take I-70 to Grand Junction, over the Continental
Divide and on to Denver. Time wasn't an issue and I loved driving, seeing
new places.

"Ten dollars for a full wash job,
inside and out. Is that okay?"

"Where I come from it's cheap, if
you do a good job."

"I'll do a good job, Mr. Yager,
a real good job."

"Well, first tell me where to get
something to eat and where I can find a Laundromat. If there's someplace
close enough to walk, I guess you can wash it this evening."

I'd pulled off the highway, figuring
I'd spot a few of the chain motels, but there were none and I'd come on
into town. Salina, Utah was the classic western town, a main street with
a few shops, a feed store and a couple of cafes. There were a few motels
and I'd pulled into was called Thomson's Inn. It seemed to be the newer
and cleaner choice. I saw from their sign that the motel was affiliated
with one of the national franchises, so it probably had to meet their
standards.

"I'm Joseph," the boy had said when
I checked in. He already knew my name from the registration card. Once
he'd finished signing me in and had handed me the room key, he'd followed
me out to my car, perhaps thinking he could help me with bags and maybe
get a tip for his efforts. I didn't mind. He was a cute kid, polite but
not at all pushy.

"The best place to eat is Thomson's
Cafe, just across the road,'" Joseph said, "and we've got some coin
operated washers and dryers in the back of the motel. I'll be glad to do
your stuff while I wash your car."

"You wouldn't by any chance be Joseph
Thomson, would you?" I laughed.

"Yeah, I am," he grinned again,
this time also blushing. "There are a lot of us around, but the cafe belongs
to my aunt and uncle. My mom owns the motel."

"Is that the place with the signs
back on the highway saying they have scones?"

"Yeah, but they have a lot of other
stuff, too."

"What's with the scones, Joseph?
I saw a couple of other signs along the highway advertising cafes which
had them."

"Well, I guess they're a sort of
Utah specialty, made like scones anyplace else, but cooked on a griddle
instead of being baked."

"Is that some sort of frontier
thing?"
I asked.

"Yeah, it is," he said, seemingly
impressed that I'd have come to that conclusion.

"They say when our Mormon ancestors
came west they didn't have ovens so the women started making scones on
a griddle over an open fire. Now they still use a griddle, but I guess
it's gas, not a wood fire like in the old days."

"There the ones who aren't doing
so good, at least by the standards of the church."

"How do you rate?" I asked, giving
him my own best grin.

"Not so good, I guess."

"Well, they'll probably straighten
you out, get you married off in a couple of years, and set you back on
the path to righteousness."

"Not likely," he said, the grin
gone. He kicked a loose gravel on the asphalt parking lot. "I just want
to get out of here."

"Well, if I'm just going across the
street for dinner, I guess you can do the car now." I handed him the keys
and a twenty dollar bill. "Sorry I don't have any change."

"That's okay" he grinned again,
"I can get quarters in the motel office." I picked up the one bag I'd need
along with my briefcase, which contained my lap computer. "I'll pull it
around back to wash it and then park it right outside your room and return
the keys."

"That'll be great, Joseph, you know
where to find me."

"Yep," he grinned, "either across
the street munching scones, or back in your room."

"Probably back in my room. I don't
intend to eat much," I smiled back at him. He really was a cute kid and
so very engaging. "By the way," I added as I headed for my room to get
rid of my bags, "I don't suppose there's any internet service
here."

"Yeah, we have
wireless,"

"Really?" I was amazed.

"We've been on-line for several
years but we just went wireless a couple of months ago," Joseph said, again
beaming.

I watched as he got in my car and
started it, pulling slowly, carefully around the end of the motel and
disappearing
from view.

So that's how it began, this tale
I've called Salina. In reality, it began in Salina, but as you'll see,
it moved on.

I sat in a back booth, having one
more cup of coffee and one more scone with a bit of homemade jam. It was
a perfect dessert following a surprisingly good meal. I'd been much longer
than I'd expected, lingering over dinner as I looked through three or four
days of back newspapers. I'd not heard or read much news since leaving
San Francisco and it was good to catch up. NPR, I'd learned, didn't
penetrate
the wilds of Nevada and Utah and I was cursing myself driving across several
hundred miles of brown hills for not having gone ahead and bought the
satellite
radio I'd been looking at.

"Hey, Joseph," I said, looking up
at his cute face. I noticed at once that the grin wasn't there, replaced
now by a more serious, even worried expression.

Not good, I thought, he probably
dented a fender .

"You want to sit down, Joseph?" I
said and he quickly slumped into the booth facing me. "How about one of
these scones and a cup of coffee?"

"Yeah, thanks, Mr. Yager, a scone,
but no coffee. That's not on the approved list of beverages for us good
Mormons." The grin was back, or at least a flicker of it.

"I thought you said you didn't rate
so high on the Mormon righteousness scale anyway," I teased, lowering my
voice so only Joseph could hear.

"That's my aunt behind the counter,"
he whispered. "Around the family I try to tow the line."

"Okay," I chuckled, "one scone,
and what to drink with it?"

"Maybe a glass of milk," he said,
getting up to speak to the plump middle- aged lady who'd cooked and served
my meal.

Yeah, he looked like milk, I thought,
clean, wholesome, and a really cute guy. The boy next door, even if next
door was a thousand miles from nowhere.

"So how did the car wash go?" I
asked when he slipped back into the booth.

"Oh, fine, really great. I think
you'll be pleased."

"Glad to hear it," I smiled. "When
I saw the worried expression on your face just now I sort of figured you'd
crashed it."

"Oh, no, sir, I was real
careful."

"Then why the downcast
expression?"

"Could we talk, Mr.
Yager?"

"We are talking,
Joseph."

"I mean private, could I maybe come
to your room?"

"Sure, if you want.""I'll get your laundry and bring
it to your room when it's finished in about half an hour if that's
okay."

"Great, Joseph, but you're going
to spoil me. I'm not used to this kind of service out side a five star
hotel."

He grinned again and consumed the
last of his scone. He'd eaten the whole thing in no more than three
bites.

True to his word, Joseph knocked
on my door in just half an hour. I glanced at the bedside clock and saw
it was getting late, too late to talk long.

"I folded everything, Mr. Yager,"
he said, placing the neatly sorted clothes in two stacks on the dresser,
one stack of colored sports shirts and the other, white underwear and socks.
"Here's your change."

He handed me a five and an assortment
of change. I put the change in my pocket and handed him the five. "Thanks,
Joseph. That's for such personal service."

"Really, Mr. Yager? You don't need
to do that."

"Hey, that kind of service should
be rewarded."

"That's the biggest tip I ever
got."

"Well, don't spend it in one place,
as my dad used to say to me."

"There aren't many places to spend
anything around here."

I pointed him to one of the two chairs
and sat down facing him. "So what is this private conversation you wanted
to have?"

He was silent for a moment, looking
at the window, the walls, and then finally, at me. "I don't want you to
think I was snooping into your stuff, Mr. Yager, but when I was vacuuming
out your back seat I moved the pile of magazines you'd left
there."

"Ah," I said, finally getting the
point. There had been a couple of New Yorkers on the top of the pile, along
with the most recent issue of Newsweek, but under them, on the bottom of
the pile, had been a copy of current issue of The Advocate. "I guess I
sort of outed myself."

"So you are gay?"

"Yes, Joseph, gay or bi, I've not
really figured it out."

"So you like guys and girls,
too?"

"I like people. If my relationship
with someone I like becomes sexual, I am more than happy with it, whatever
gender they are."

"I think I'm gay, too," the boy said,
his head down, his eyes seemingly fixed on my shoes, and with an obvious
catch in his voice.

I was silent, waiting for him to
continue, but after a minute or two, he made a soft, sobbing noise and
I realized he was crying. Reaching out, putting my hand on his shoulder.
I stroked him gently, feeling the firmness of his muscles beneath the thin
cotton of his shirt. "That can't be easy, in this environment," I said
softly.

He leaned in a little more toward
me, resting his forehead against my shoulder as I continued to stroke his
shoulder and upper arm.

The silence continued a little
longer.
He sniffed. I got up and came back a moment later with a handful of tissues.
Returning to him, I placed them in his hands. He looked up at me, laid
all but one of the tissues on the table, and with the remaining one, blew
his nose. Then looking up at me again, his eyes red and his cheeks flushed,
he whispered, "it's hell."

We sat there a few moments longer
and then he went on. "When I was fifteen I had a boyfriend, one of my
cousins,
actually. He's older than me, and it only lasted about a year and a half.
He's in the army now.

"Before he left for basic training,
he came to my room one night. I thought he'd come to say goodbye. I guess
in a way, he had. He pushed me down on the bed and jabbed his fist in my
chest, then he leaned over and whispered in my ear, 'if you ever tell
anybody
about us, I'll tell them it was all your fault, that you're just a little
cock sucking queer.'

"He's been gone now for almost two
years but he'll be discharged soon. I haven't heard from him once since
he left. A couple of months ago my mother told me he's going to marry one
of my father's nieces when he comes home. The idea of him being back here,
living in Salina with that girl, and probably having a brood of little
Mormon kids . . ." He looked up at me and shuddered. "I've promised myself
that I'll be long gone before he comes home."

"How old are you,
Joseph?"

"Eighteen, almost
nineteen."

"I thought you were
younger."

"I know, everybody thinks I'm just
a kid."

"What are you going to
do?"

"I've taken on-line classes for
the last two years and I have enough credits to enter university this fall
as a junior."

"That's taken a lot of self
discipline,
Joseph."

"Yeah, but I had a lot of motivation,"
he said, looking up at me. I saw the shadow of that cute grin was back.
"I really want out of here."

"So where do you intend to
go?"

"The University of Denver. They
offered me a pretty good financial aid package and I can get a job there
at one of the hotels. I have friends who work there now and they're always
looking for staff."

"It sounds like you have things
planned."

"I'm leaving in a couple of weeks
and I can hardly wait."

"Are your folks driving you to
Denver?"

"No," he said, looking down again.
"I only have my mom. My dad died when I was eleven. She can't be gone that
long, not with the motel and my two little sisters to see to, but she is
doing everything she can to help me with the cost of college."

"So how will you get
there?"

"A friend of mine is driving to
Grand Junction on the tenth and I can ride that far with him. From there
I can get a bus on to Denver."

"That must take a
while."

"Yeah, I'll stay over one night
in Grand Junction, so it will take the better part of two days, but I don't
mind, as long as I'm getting out of Salina."

"I'm glad you shared all this with
me, Joseph," I said, again touching his shoulder, giving him a little
squeeze.
"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"No, it's just good to talk to
someone.
There's nobody here I can do that with."

I just smiled, leaving it to the
University of Denver to correct his grammar.

"I'm glad you saw those magazines
and figured out I might be sympathetic."

"Me, too," he smiled, getting up
to leave.

"Hey," I said as an after thought,
just as he was reaching for the door, "would you like to take those
magazines?"

Joseph stood there silently, looking
back at me. "Maybe the New Yorker, if you're through with it."

"Not The Advocate,
too?"

"I'd be afraid someone would find
it."

"Sure," I agreed, realizing what
a deep closet he'd been forced into. "Come on, we'll get it out of the
car."

He'd parked my car just in front
of my room as he'd said he'd do, and with a push of the remote and the
opening of the rear door, I took out the New Yorker and handed it to
him.

"Enjoy," I said.

"Thanks, Mr. Yager. Maybe I can
see you in the morning before you head out."

"Sure, Joseph. Do you want to meet
me for breakfast?"

"Hey, that would be
great."

"Thomson's Cafe at eight
o'clock?"

"I'll be there."

I had trouble getting to sleep that
night. I lay awake thinking about Joseph and how difficult life had been
for him. I realized how fortunate I'd been, growing up in a totally
different
environment where I was allowed, even encouraged, to find my own way,
discover
my own nature.

"No, the bed was fine, but it was
sort of your fault," I said with a grin so he'd know I was
teasing.

"How, Mr. Yager?"

"Oh, just thinking about you, your
life here and your plans to get away from Salina."

"Yeah," he smiled back.

"When did you say you plan to
leave?"

"A week from Sunday."

"Does that get you to Denver when
you can get into a dorm?"

"No, actually, I'm going to share
an apartment with the guys I know there, the ones who work in one of the
hotels and are going to get me on there."

"Gay or straight?" I asked, lowering
my voice so no one else could hear.

"Straight, unfortunately, but they
are escaping from Mormon control like me."

"Well, you'll have that in
common."

"Yeah, but I won't be able to be
all that open with them."

"Maybe they'll surprise you and be
more accepting than you think."

"That would be nice."

At that point Joseph's aunt came
over to take our orders.

"You want the full breakfast,
Joseph,"
she asked, giving her nephew an affectionate squeeze on the
arm.

"Yes, please, Anna." Then turning
to me, he said, "Aunt Anna's 'full breakfast' is two eggs, sausage, hash
browns, and all the scones you can eat."

"That sounds great," I said. "I'll
have to eat light the rest of the day, but let's go for it."

"You want coffee, sir?" she
asked.

"You make it, I'll drink it," I
said.

"We make it, we just don't drink
it," she shot back with a twinkle in her eyes, then added, "milk for you,
Joseph?"

"Yes, ma'am."

I waited until our food had come
to ask my next questions, the one I'd been weighing all night.

"Joseph, can you move into the
apartment
whenever you get to Denver?"

"Yes, I want to have a few days
to get settled into a job before registration on the
eighteenth."

"So if you got there a little earlier
than you're planning, it would be okay?"

"Yes, in fact, it would really
help."

"How much stuff do you have to
take?"

"Not much, a couple of suit cases
and a backpack, I guess."

We were both silent for a few minutes
while we finished our breakfast. When the boy looked up from his empty
plate and smiled, I went on. "If this is a bad idea, Joseph, just say so,
but I plan to drive south from here. I want to see Glen Canyon, the area
around Lake Powell, and Arches National Park. Then I'll take I-70 on into
Denver. I should reach there by the weekend."

"It sounds like a great trip to
me, sir."

"That's not what I was asking,
Joseph.
I was going to ask if you'd like to come along. I could get you to Denver
several days earlier than you planned."

"Oh, gees, Mr. Yager, that would
be amazing."

"What would your mother
say?"

"I think she'd be okay with it, if
she met you and she figured you weren't some sort of serial killer or
something,"
he laughed for a moment and then stopped suddenly to add, "but it would
take me a while to get my stuff packed. It's all organized but not in my
suitcases or anything. I couldn't hold you up."

"Let's go talk to your
mom."

Needless to say, we didn't get away
till the next day.

Our first step was to talk to Joseph's
mother, who seemed willing enough for her only son to get a free ride to
Denver, but a little suspicious of my motives. I went out of my way to
assure her that I'd take good care of him and that he'd call her each
evening
to let her know where we were. It was when I gave her my office phone number
in San Francisco that she seemed to make up her mind. I suggested she make
a phone call to my staff there and ask any questions she wanted. She did
make the call, but I think it was when I also gave her my mobile number
that she seemed to finally become comfortable with me.

"Joseph is a wonderful young man,
Mrs. Thomson," I said, "but I think you probably realize there isn't much
for him here in Salina. He's determined to get a university degree and
the opportunity to study at the University of Denver will open a lot of
doors."

"Yes," she'd said. "I know he can
never be happy Salina. He's not like other boys around here." I knew there
was an unspoken understanding between us when she added, "you'll be good
to him."

"Yes, Mrs. Thomson, I'll take good
care of him."

Then it was a matter of Joseph
packing,
which took several hours, followed by the Thomson clan insisting that we
stay over another night so they could have a proper going away party, which
was held that evening at the cafe.

I stayed over a second night, not
as a paying guest this time, but as a friend of the family.

Joseph came to my room late that
evening. "I can only stay a minute, but we'll be together tomorrow
night."

"Yes," I agreed, not sure what he
meant. "One more thing, Joseph," I said as he started to
leave.

"Yes, sir?"

"No more 'sir.' No more 'Mr.
Yager.'
My name is John, just John."

He smiled. "When we leave, when
we're alone, but in front of my family, I'll call you Mr.
Yager."

We had another huge breakfast the
next morning and then, finally, about nine o'clock, we were on our
way.